The plant at her feet sways like it's dancing and she looks down at it fondly before stooping to scoop it up and settle the little sproutling on her shoulder. She's been locked up for months now and it's become rather boring. Sometimes she makes it less boring but she's been bearing more and more bruises for her troubles and Sprout has taken to pouting at her until she quietly acquiesces to their demands. Sit here, do this, shut up, go here, fix this, tell us everything you know, shut up. Whatever they really want Jyn cannot give them as the gift of prophecy is not something she has been gifted.
At least that is what she tells them. Her mother had told her every single vision that she'd had before the Empire had her killed. Prophets, oracles, seers, witches were too powerful and too damaging to the Empire. Jyn's Papa had thought his role would have protected his wife and daughter but he was wrong. Instead, Jyn had watched her mother murdered in front of her, blood split across the grass, and her father taken away from her and she'd been raised by a man so against the Empire it was as if they had handed their enemy a weapon.
A weapon in the shape of an eight year old, carrying all the prophecies of Lyra Erso.
Thirteen years later they have that weapon again but they don't even realize, Jyn having long since shed her given name for a series of names she's pulled from her past and molded into entirely new people. Kestrel, the pickpocket street urchin; Nari,the socialite who stole jewels right off people's wrists; and today, Liana Hallik, apothecary with too good an eye for the curative properties of the local flora. She knows better than to advertise her abilities, but a child was sick and Jyn has a weakness for children.
"It'll be alright, Sprout. This isn't how we die." Sprout looks at her with disdain and she shrugs, crossing the room to peer out the window feeling a shiver of magic in the air. "Something is coming."
There have been a great number of fallen families over the last two decades, the Empire pulling them apart piece by piece and tearing down estates under the guise of their magic crackdown, but Cassian has known since he was a child that it was all a power grab. They don't want people with the ability to oppose them. Fest, a hotbed for ice magic, was attacked and leveled mere days after he escaped with his mother. Their father had warned them it was coming, having heard it from a prophet in Carida before he'd died.
She'd been killed a month later herself, tracked down and the entire house they were staying in set on fire, because the Empire was not subtle in their chosen executions. Cassian only lived because he was covered in his mother's blood and the power they didn't realize she'd possessed.
The Ersos are one such family. Lyra was known to have been prophetic and the Empire killed her. Galen was taken hostage, and their child disappeared - until very recently, when the Rebellion discovered Jyn Erso was very much alive and currently in the Wobani Prisons under the name of Liana Hallik.
The Rebellion is small but they're smart, and that's how Cassian finds himself assigned as a new guard to Wobani after a month of preparations. He's dressed like a stormtrooper, all white armor with only the slot for his eyes opened up.
He stops outside her cell. "Hallik." He's using the Coruscanti accent, always the least obtrusive. "Hands."
It's what they do for all suspected magic users, a blanket precaution that Cassian knows only works about half the time, but the Empire's view of magic is narrow. He waits for Jyn to hold her hands upright and slide them through the slot so he can cuff her as is standard.
Sprout makes another face but Jyn shushes him once more. "This isn't how we die." Maybe it is how Sprout dies, Jyn doesn't know, but she knows it isn't how she dies. A beach, her Mama had said to her father while four year old Jyn eavesdropped from around the corner; a beautiful beach with golden sand and brilliant sparkling blue green seas, wrapped in the arms of a man that loved her.
Clearly, Jyn is never going to die.
Her hands slide through the slot, scars etched into her wrists from the many times she has had to go through this, and she peers at the man behind the bars. There is power coming from somewhere but she can't tell where and she doesn't know what it means, but at least she'll be outside when it happens. Whateverit may be.
"So what is it today?" she asks, accent something close of Coruscanti but softer and with none of the eloquence of a high born lady. Luckily, Liana Hallik is not a high born lady. "Work or torture? Only one of those choices will actually be productive, but I know you lot aren't known for your intelligence." Maybe she shouldn't be sassing the guards, but she has so little enjoyment in her day to day life, she'll take what she can get. Even if it makes Sprout dig his sharp little claws into her leg from under her skirt.
He binds her hands, just as tight as most of the guards do even if he has two seconds of reluctance at the sight of the scars - but he can't show anything less than model behavior or the whole ruse will be up before it even begins. It's not like his own hands aren't cover in scars too.
"Torturous work." Maybe it's too much of a quip, but he's heard the way some of the guards talk to the prisoners, so it's not too far off the mark. He unlocks the cell once her hands are secure and yanks her out. He's studied their behavior, there's nothing off about him so far.
He has to get her down to the torture chambers. Cassian has memorized the entire layout of this prison, and the basement is the best way out. It's risky since she's definitely not scheduled for this today, but they have a twenty minute window before anyone should notice Liana Hallik missing from her cell. He doesn't wait for any more replies, just starts dragging her along as harshly as she's probably used to. He'll apologize later.
Sprout needles at her ankle again before leaping to hold on to the inside of her skirts, claws catching on the serviceable fabric. She knows she shouldn't talk back, she's practically asking to be backhanded and she also knows that if she fights back it'll be more than a backhand.
She braces for the hit, but it doesn't come. Instead she is yanked harder, the force making her gasp as pain shoots up her arms. Anger spools in her belly, hands curling into small fists. Maybe it the smell of magic in the air -- like ozone, a spark of lightning. She knows no one else can smell it but she can, a perfume that she can't quite place. She knows better than too keep pushing but she's compelled by a contrary, reckless nature.
"I know why you wear those masks," she says, voice soft but sliced through with venom, poison dripping heavy and thick from her words. "You are too ashamed of the face you see in the mirror so you become faceless monsters who can destroy with cruelty and malice, but you are all cowards. If we could see your faces, we could find you. And there would be no land where you were safe from your crimes."
Well. She isn't wrong about one thing, he is very ashamed of the face he sees in the mirror, and he knows she's talking to the Stormtrooper guard, but he still takes it personally. The way he yanks her around isn't a response to what she says so much as the expected reaction.
He agrees with her though, about the idea behind the masks, the cruelty of the Empire. He can sense the magic around her, and though the Rebellion suspected and knew Jyn Erso possessed some kind of power, no one had ever been able to confirm it. Not with her disappearance, not with Saw Gerrera raising her. It's how he knows the Empire doesn't realize they have an Erso in Wobani, because otherwise she would not be in Wobani.
"Haven't you ever heard of a uniform before?" He gives her another hard tug, this time towards what is the familiar direction of the basements. He can feel her tensing under his grip and he grits his teeth, fortunately hidden by the mask she so accurately decried.
It is when she realizes where they are going to Jyn become less compliant, digging her heels in and dragging her feet. He'd said 'torturous work' and she had thought he had meant she would be put back to work breaking stones for walls to ripping apart thorn bushes with her bare hands to build barbed traps above the walls. Work that hurt, work that prisoners did because their comfort meant nothing.
"I will like your uniform better when it is stained red with blood," she hisses, voice turning icy with fear.
Pain is commonplace in her life, Saw had made it so, made it so she could fight through it and keep fighting. It was part of surviving. But the basements held pain she could not fight, pain she could not run from. Her attitude will make it worse but perhaps if she keeps needling him, keeps pushing, he will snap and the torture will simply be death.
If only this was how she died. Instead she knows she will endure and that is a torture in itself.
He expected resistance from her, and he wishes he could tell her what was really happening but they're still in earshot and eyeshot of numerous others. He doesn't reply to her this time, just starts her down the stairs, even if it's more of a struggle now with the fight she puts up. It's a battle now, and he spares a moment to be impressed, since presumably this happens every time.
The difference is when they finally get to the bottom of the stairs - with a loud thump because Cassian has to pull her harshly off that last step - they keep walking. He tugs her past the first room, the second, past all the usual doorways she's undoubtedly been pulled through in a similar way.
Instead he moves towards the end of the darkened hallway, covering her mouth as he hauls her into the root cellar.
Before she can yell or scream or punch or even magic at him, he pulls down part of the mask to reveal more of his face, eyes bright with a new sudden urgency. His voice is quiet, if not firm with that same hurried spark in his expression.
"I have seen the fulcrum. He has traveled from the Temple to the Prison." It's him, he's the fulcrum. He doesn't know how much of the code she might have gotten from her mother, or even from Saw, but it's worth a shot. At the very least it will make zero sense and give her enough reason to pause in the confusion. "And I know you are Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen and Lyra."
It makes zero sense and gives her enough reason to pause in the confusion.
Which is for the best because being pulled into a darkened room that isn't for torture and having her mouth covered so she doesn't scream makes panic well up in her throat, eyes wide and panicked before they turn wide and panicked and confused at his words.
And then Sprout leaps from her dress and clings to the hand covering her mouth, sinking his razor sharp teeth into his hand until it releases Jyn's face. She steps back, putting herself against the wall and keeping her bound hands in front of her, expression wary. She doesn't look away from the ...fulcrum, even if she is worried about wherever Sprout had fallen when he'd been shaken off. He scampers over a pile of tubers and bares his teeth at the trooper.
It's the thing that bites him and the new panic he sees her in eyes that has him letting go, both of her face and her hands. Cassian takes a step back and holds up his own hands, showing them weaponless and in no position to cast any sort of magic.
His gaze drops briefly to the little... plant, the plant that just bit him, and he takes it as a hint to what Jyn is capable of, something to come back to after he convinces her to follow him out of here. He hasn't gotten off on the best footing, but there was no way for that to happen, not in this disguise.
"Your mother is well known in the Temple of the Whills. We traced your various aliases. I have a map of this prison, and I am here to get you out."
She knows that name, knows the Empire hates the Temple and the Guardians, Mama had told her they were the last bastion of resistance against the Empire's slaughter of gifted peoples. Sprout chitters at her, sounding very keen to continue his violence, but she shakes her head once, not looking away from the seemingly unarmed man even as Sprout skitters back to her and clambers up her dress.
Unarmed is an illusion. Jyn doesn't need her hands to work her magic, anyone can be dangerous even without weapons.
"Prove it. Let my hands free." Sprout walks down her arm, standing on her binders, and glowers. Generally he does not look very intimidating considering he is a five inch tall twig creature, but now his sharp teeth are common knowledge in this room.
There is a lot that is undoubtedly going through her mind right now. Unfortunately they don't have a lot of time to process it. By Cassian's mental calculations, they've got about ten minutes left before the rotation goes by and notices her empty cell.
It comes with a risk to prove it, but there are no other options. He can't knock her out and carry her deadweight. He doesn't want to fight her the entire way. He does want to get her out, that's why he's here.
"Okay." Still holding up his hands, and he moves back in closer. "I am going to undo them now."
It's strange to narrate his actions, but he's trying to be as transparent as possible, to give her as little reasons as he can to set her off and blow the whole thing up.
His hands are much more gentle this time than when he was taking her from her cell. He scoops under her wrist carefully to undo the binding, unraveling it as softly as he can do avoid hurting her further, fingertips brushing against her cold skin. His next stop comes with more risk, but one he deems necessary: holding them out for her to take, so she doesn't need to be wary of him cuffing her all over again.
"There is a crawlspace in the back of this cellar. It leads through the walls of the prison, eventually coming out through a drainage window." It's enough information to give her an idea of what they need to do, but he leaves out key information to keep himself necessary to the escape.
Her wrists are already painfully red and raw from her restraints and she takes them from Cassian with the same wariness before she hurls them behind a barrel of turnips.
"Lead the way."
She feels safe underground because she can feel the root systems of so many trees and plants and grasses surrounding her. If all else fails she could probably bring down this basement around them but then she would pass out and be trapped under there in the rubble so. Bad idea. She has to follow him or be directed by him, one of those options.
But first, she yanks open a barrel and grabs an apple, rooting around for more food; she shoves carrots in the pockets of her dress, shoves parsnips in the other pocket, grabs another apple and takes a huge, mouthwatering bite. Now she is ready to go, Sprout nibbling on the greens of one of the carrots in her pocket.
So far, not a bad call. It remains to be seen for end results, depending on what she does once they're finally out of the prison - and there is no other option on that front, they are going to escape.
He doesn't say anything when she's scrounging for food, just makes his way towards a pile of barrels, sliding one of them aside and lifting up a trapdoor hidden behind it. If anything, he takes more time than he might normally in wedging the pathway open to give her a few extra moments to stock up. It does give him an idea of how to keep her with him: food bribery.
"I will go through first, but then you need to try and pull the barrel back in front of the door as best you can before you close it. I am not sure it can be fully done, but by the time anyone notices we will be long gone."
The doorway is just big enough to let him through on his hands and knees, but only if Cassian ducks his shoulders in while he drops to the floor and disappears into the dark space, trusting she'll follow.
He is taller than her and broader than her but maybe because she was fueled by indignant resistance, she didn't realize how much larger he is until he is trying to squeeze into the crawl space.
She has no options here. If she doesn't go with him she'll have to go back to her cell, alone, and somehow explain away where her guard went. She can't escape on her own or she would have done so already, she has tried and failed and been punished enough to know she had to bide her time. She has to follow him because he knows the way out and if that isn't the most annoying thing in the world.
Slipping easily through the door, Jyn curls herself into a ball enough to turn herself around and drag the barrel as close as she can before she settles the door back into place and twists back to follow. She's absolutely coated in dirt and grime now and one of her carrots has snapped but. It's fine. She doesn't know how long they crawl down the path but eventually he stops and she catches up and doesn't keep going, which is when she realizes he wasn't waiting for her.
"What is it?" She can't see around his bulk and she is honestly grateful for the dim-light since she would otherwise be staring at his backside.
Cassian is lean, despite how much bigger he is than Jyn, but fortunately the space inside is slightly bigger than the little doorway, and he doesn't have to slouch as they crawl through. His very white uniform ceases being white but he can't wait to shed it anyway.
When they reach the end, Cassian scowls. It hadn't occurred to him that the exit might have bars, yet here they are, stuck in this crawlspace because the bars are too narrow for either of them to squeeze through. The ground beneath them is muddy, slippery, and it reeks, proof that this little window does serve as an exit for excess rainwater and who knows what else.
"Give me a minute." He's grateful she can't see, because he pulls out the knife he nicked from the kitchens (he wasn't allowed to take any weapons in when he first got to the prison) and nicks the tip of his finger. He drags it down every other bar, leaving a single line of his blood on each. Then directly in front of the window, he draws a symbol that sinks into the dirt; as soon as it disappears, the bars do too.
It doesn't look like anything is missing, it just looks like naturally the spaces are bigger. It's temporary, they have about a minute.
"Follow me through, quickly."
He doesn't wait for her to verbally respond, just squeezes through the bars and slides into the mud waiting for them outside. There is absolutely nothing white left on his clothes.
Jyn feels the snap of power and now she knows it's him. He is the magic user that she felt. It should make her trust him, but she doesn't still. The Empire has its own magic user, she knows; she has heard whispers of the Emperor's Lord Vader in his black cloak and a power no one can decide on. No one who has seen in it person has lived to pass on the story.
She follows, slipping through the bars and pushing herself up and out of the mud and muck. The smell does not bother her. It wasn't as if they took care to clean out her cell very often. She has spent the last six months living in her own filth and rotten, mouldy food she refused to eat when she first arrived.
If she looked back at all, she would notice the return of the bars, but Cassian (and hopefully her too) is more concerned about getting out of sight of the prison.
"I have food and new clothes stashed away in the woods. This is the trickiest part - making it there before we are seen."
There's a stream that follows along the edge of the prison and eventually curves off into the forest. He gestures at it after he climbs to his own feet. "We can follow that and stay close to the water, or wait about - " He looks up at the top wall of the prison, watching the shadows of the guard, "- another minute before they start walking the other direction and hope the direct path is short enough for us to cross before they turn around."
If worse comes to worst, he can shield and hide them a little, but he's trying his best not to show just what it is he can do yet. Most people within the Rebellion don't even know.
He thinks following the stream might be better, if only because it would enable her to move more slowly - and he's not sure what shape her body is in after the prison time. But maybe giving her a choice in the matter will help her get used to working with him, or at least get her to trust him enough to get her far from this place.
Jyn looks at the stream, thinks about creeping along slowly and carefully and knows she won't be able to do it. A straight line is the quickest and being quick has kept Jyn alive for so long, she can't just let it go.
"I can run."
And she does, without waiting that whole minute. She runs and he chases (follows?) and soon they are both running at full speed toward the safety of the lush, green forest she has been staring at out her window for six months. They're running and they're close and Jyn hears a shout, an alarm being raised. Maybe it isn't even that they are seen at first but her cell is found empty or maybe they were spotted running across the grounds. They will never know, they just have to keep running.
She hears the stampede of boots behind them once the stormtroopers give chase and she knows that as soon as they reach the forest they will be safe but they have to reach the forest first. Jyn slows enough to be overtaken but she can feel more than see when he turns around once he's realizes that she'd stopped.
She hears him telling her to hurry, that they can't stop, that they can't be caught, but she stops. She stops and drops to her knees, plunging her hands into the cold, hard dirt that allows her entrance like soft butter. At once, Sprout leaps from her pocket and darts across the ground to climb up Cassian's dirty pant leg. Nothing happens at first and Jyn hears his low, insistent demands that they have to run, she feels his hand touch her shoulder as if to shake her out of whatever insanity has driven her to stop and at that second dozens of huge roots burst out of the ground. They race across the space between the escapees and the stormtroopers, curling around legs and dragging them to the ground with so much violent strength that the sounds of their cries and broken, snapping bones rends the quiet like an explosion. In moments, the Imperials are all laying slumped on the ground and unable to give chase and the roots sink back into the ground like they had never been there at all.
Jyn stands, skin cold and trembling, and turns. Her green eyes are bright and sparkling, cheeks flushed and hair somehow windswept, radiant in victory. "What are you waiting for? Run."
When he has the time to stop and think about it, Cassian won't be surprised that she opted to run. She'd been in prison for months, it's the obvious reaction. The treeline is in sight when he runs past her, frowning at the rate she slows down. No amount of yelling and demanding gets her to her feet, and the only reason he doesn't yank her upright himself is because her little plant friend joins him instead - and already he knows this creature wouldn't leave Jyn to her own devices if he didn't think she was 100% safe.
As the roots burst from the ground, Cassian can't help but watch her attack in awe, barely aware of the twig creature practically cheering from his pants.
He was right to assume plant magic. He just hadn't realized just how powerful it was, and he almost wishes she'd kept it a secret despite how it has just saved them, because now without a doubt the Empire will gain access to this knowledge too. Jyn Erso can never ever fall back into their hands.
"I was waiting for you!" he quips back, pausing a moment to take in the sight of her face flushed in victory, but then he yanks on her hand and starts running again. No time for another trick like that one! Besides, if she can do that with roots, once they're in the trees they'll be much safer.
He takes her hand and sets off and Jyn races away after him. Sprout leaps from Cassian's shoulder to Jyn's, leaping again into her pocket and curling his claws around the edge like he is enjoying the ride. He's been cooped up as long as Jyn has, he wants the wind in his leaves.
They run and run and run, reaching the forest and through it, Jyn using the trees to cover their path behind him, even as they keep running. Entire looming trees simply move, as if their roots aren't hundreds of years old and deep into the ground, the forest utterly at Jyn's command. Soon they are untraceable, but Cassian keeps urging them forward and Jyn can't blame him. She wants to get as far from that prison as possible.
The woods to their left are uprooted and shifted as they splash through the curve in the stream, hiding them from all angles, and Cassian doesn't stop until they reach a circular copse of trees, a camp disguised by an overgrown thicket. When Jyn realizes this will be their camp for the night, the tree branches lower to further disguise the camp. Jyn's vision goes blurry and she hears a monotone voice point out: "She's fainting."
"No, I'm not," Jyn protests, promptly passing out. Hand still clutched in Cassian's.
She follows him without a fight, which is for the best because they don't have time to argue. Jyn definitely put a big gap between them and the stormtroopers, but he's not about to slow down. Besides, she continues to make the path forward easier, and Cassian takes note of what her powers are capable of, both with admiration and for information's sake.
They make it to the camp, which she also manages to secure further, and then promptly passes out. Cassian jerks, scooping his arm around her waist before she falls and keeping her upright.
With a sigh, Kay scurries over to help. Together they bring her over to one of the cots and settle her in comfortably. "I do not think she is too hurt, but look her over, please? I am going to make sure the borders are still secure."
Kay works his healing magic while Cassian does his, redrawing the symbols for protection and silence, grateful for the extra coverage via trees now too. Jyn's little plant friend never leaves her side and nearly gets into an argument with Kay until he demonstrates his healing on Cassian's own bleeding palm. Once all that's settled, Cassian starts up a fire and starts to cook, sitting and chatting quietly with Kay while they wait for Jyn to wake up.
She doesn't startle awake, almost like after six months in prison her body is used to awakening from being unconscious. Instead her steady breathing falters before taking a deep breath. She is warm; she can hear the crackle of fire, smell the smokey-sweet scent of mouldering wood burning, the weight draped across her is light enough to only be a blanket. Her head is aching from foolishly exerting her power earlier, but physically she feels better than she has in ages. The familiar sting of her wrists is gone and without opening her eyes, her hands twist around each of her wrists in turn, finding the fresh scrapes gone.
Sprout chitters at her and she finally opens her eyes, blinking against the bright light of the fire so close in the dim clearing, licking her lips to chase away the cottony feeling of her mouth.
"Sprout says he makes no apologies for his prior actions." Jyn doesn't ask what actions or why a tiny plant creature may need to apologize, instead slowly pushing herself to sitting while her companion keeps chattering at her. If they thought her fainting spell was an opportunity to talk in private, they were incorrect. This plant is a chatterbox. She doesn't relay anything else he says but some of his gesticulations clearly imply profanity.
Eventually, she looks between the two men. "Are you going to introduce yourselves now?"
Cassian has since changed out of the imperial uniform he stole, the remains of it burning in the fire. His trousers are a dark brown, shirt a dark blue, and his jacket is also a dark brown, clearly made more for blending into this forest. There are extra clothes waiting for Jyn too, and he looks up when she stirs, listening to her little plant friend go off on who knows what.
He knew he was correct in keeping the conversation strictly to the mission as it relates to Jyn, not wanting to assume too little or too much of Sprout.
He stands up and shifts enough to offer her a cup of water. "I am Cassian, this is Kay. He is the one who tended your injuries. We are safe in this camp. How are you feeling?"
Even sitting down, Jyn can tell Kay will loom above her and part of her bristles at the sheer injustice of it all. It's further bothersome because Jyn must be grateful to this enormous man since he very clearly did more for her health in a matter of hours than her own body could have done in months.
At least she is taller than Sprout.
She takes the cup greedily, gulping down the water even though the logical part of her brain insists that she take it slow and pace herself. There is a stream nearby, she can pace herself later.
"Thank you." It applies to both, she refuses to specify for what she is offering her gratitude, for whom.
"I feel," she adds, thirsty again already but feeling her stomach roll at the nothing else in her belly. "Like I am in dire need... of soap."
Cassian pauses, almost laughing, and there's a hint of it in his face, but he manages to keep it hushed. "Lucky for you, we have soap. You can wash at the stream, but we can also make up a warm bucket of water. Your choice."
He can very magically heat it up almost instantly, but he's not about to admit that. She can just assume it'll be heated on the open fire.
"There are clothes for you as well," offers Kay, but in a very matter-of-fact way. "Presumably you want to be rid of the uniform."
"I would." Her agreement is quick and she straightens up, feeling the blood rush to her head, dizziness washing over her. For a moment she closes her eyes, breathing out slowly, before her equilibrium returns.
"I'll meet you by the stream with soap."
Without waiting for it, she turns and lopes off unerringly toward the water, stripping off her filthy dress and delicates as she goes. They are in the forest, being stalked probably still by her guards, no one is going to scold her for the utter lack of decorum and propriety. She was just rescued from prison, no one expects Liana Hallik to be a lady and most people think Jyn Erso perished with her poor mother.
Sprout looks up between Kay and Cassian and his leaves spread in an unmistakable shrug.
He briefly jerks when Jyn stands up and hobbles, but she catches her balance before he stands. He watches her leave, standing to get the soap, and then immediately freezes in place when she starts pulling her clothes off before she even reaches the stream.
"Oh, please!" Kay sighs dramatically, turning around and going back to tending the fire.
Cassian does not turn around as quickly, catching sight of the bare expanse of her back before he turns his head, the tips of his ears going red while her little plant friend just... shrugs.
He doesn't follow after her immediately. He gives her time to get into the stream, ducking into the tent to get some soap and also new clothes. It's a very simple green dress, and knowing how small she is, it's a good thing he brought a belt to cinch it. There's an undershirt tucked in the dress, and a jacket she can have later waits at her cot.
With a sigh, he starts for the stream, relieved to find her already submerged. He stops at a respectable distance, and fortunately he's managed to get the initial flush of surprise back under control, clearing his throat.
"I am afraid we do not have towels, but I have clothes and soap. Where should I put it?"
"Throw it." A beat. "The soap. Not the clothes. Though the old clothes you might as well throw in, as well."
It makes more sense to wash her clothes while she is washing herself than to get clean and dry and then struggle with washing her soiled dress once she is out of the water. May as well kill two birds with one stone. The river grasses can help her beat the filth out of the dress.
"I would ask for help but your friend may well implode from the indecency of it all."
Dipping her head, she cups her hands to drink from the stream, closing her eyes at the cool water soothing what Kay couldn't heal. The scrapes and abrasions and careful torturous cuts are all gone, miraculously, but the months of bruises remain. Perhaps her injuries were too numerous to get to the bruises, perhaps that was outside of his purview. Her mother was the one with insight to the ability of others, Jyn only feels them.
He scans the area, pinpointing where all her old clothes have fallen scattered in the grass. First he shifts a little closer, enough that he can settle her clean clothes down nearer to the edge of the stream so she won't need to traipse more than a foot or so to get them. Then a quick toss finds the soap landing with a soft splash in the water, close enough for her to reach out and snag it. His aim is always precise.
He turns back, under the guise of gathering up her old things. "I can help you wash your old clothes, if that is what you mean."
Though why she would keep a prison uniform is lost on him, briefly, until he considers re-purposing it in some capacity. Waste not want not. He can, and is, fine about this. Cassian is polite but if he's honest, propriety isn't always important in the way his life has gone. He usually just goes with the tone of what already exists.
Part of it is a general ease and comfort she feels being so surrounded by nature; the stream, the trees, the fresh air after so long breathing the stale, foul air of her prison cell. A smaller part of it is also seeing how far she can push him before he balks. She suspects he'll go quite a bit further than his scandalized partner, but she won't know until she pushes.
So of course she is pushing.
Water licks across her collarbone as she turns to look at him, soaping herself up under the water. Shame is clearly not a concept Jyn is aware of, but she isn't one for lying when the truth will do. Her hair could use a good scrubbing and maybe Jyn is not up to the task solo -- it's going to take half the soap just to get the layers of filth and grime off of her.
"I would feel more comfortable if you ask directly, if you need help."
He's sure Jyn does not want to ask for help. And he isn't teasing like she is, not really. He doesn't harbor the same qualms about propriety as Kay, but he will not get in the water with a naked Jyn Erso unless explicitly asked to either.
Cassian kicks off his shoes either way, because he's prepared to wash her prison clothes, and wet shoes are the worst. He's very good at getting grime out, bloodstains included - his own magic has him dripping on his sleeves far too often.
"But if this is just a game, then give me a moment and I will get right back to it."
you're reckless, arrogant, impetuous, probably be dead by sundown, but i like you
He takes her back to the Guardians and she sleeps for days, only waking to eat and bathe. It feels excessive, to wash her hair every single day but the feel of soap sliding through her wet hair and over her bruised skin is exquisite and no one seems to begrudge her using the water again and again. It isn't heated water and it flows into the underground cave system through a waterfall so she isn't wasting a luxury.
She has just dressed in a hand-me-down yet lovely blue dress adorned with pale blue ribbons, trying to twist her hair in a messy pile of wet curls, and on her way outside into the fresh air when a sword is shoved at her. Her hands automatically fall to grab the sword and her hair falls down her back and over her shoulders in a dark waterfall.
"What is this?"
It is a sword, she knows that much, the question is really why it is being pushed at her when she was trying to tie her hair back.
There are a lot of ways she could answer the question, even beyond just a yes or no. She could lie. She could pretend otherwise. She was raised by Saw Gererra, Cassian assumes she has some familiarity with weapons, but there's no telling which was her forte.
He's holding his own, though it's tucked into the scabbard at his side. He was definitely not carrying a sword when they met, but the sheath looks old and worn. He wants to see how she handles using one, because even though she has her magic, he does too and he always likes to be armed.
His assumption is right but Jyn doesn't know how she feels about everyone knowing what she is capable of. Cassian saw her magic but that was consequence of six months in prison and suddenly being back in nature. It was not entirely conscious action, Jyn's magic has always been a little more wild than it should be -- despite Saw attempting to teach her a modicum of restraint.
"I suspect that you hit 'em with the sharp bit," is her half flippant reply.
She notices, glancing between the sword on his hip and the one in her hand, that her sword is quite a bit shorter, probably lighter, more suited to her diminutive frame than his sword would have been. That's... oddly sweet, a consideration she isn't sure many people would make.
There's a reason he keeps his blood magic quiet, so he gets it. He likes having secrets up his sleeve, pieces of himself no one gets to know or understand. Using a sword is not one of them, just because it's so commonplace. It's fine for others to know that part of him.
Even now, he can't tell what she knows. Her flippant reply is par for the course with Jyn, but he does note the way she glances between their weapons, like she's taking a sort of stock of each.
"The sharp bit's important, yes." He doesn't roll his eyes, but the urge is there. He offers her a shrug alongside his offer. "If you would like to accept it."
Not if she would like to learn, because he's still working on what she already knows. Cassian is very careful with his words.
She steps in closer, knowing already that Cassian won't back away. He hadn't backed down in the forest, she knows he won't now, a dignified statue even if she thinks sometimes she sees a hint of a smile working to free itself from his perfectly neutral expression. She steps in close enough that she can smell soap and mineral oil and the already familiar sharp tang of ozone of whatever his magic is.
She has to exhale another deep breath before she can offer her condition.
"Tell me a secret." She looks up at him, green eyes calculative. "I'm meant to trust you, am I not? How can I do that if I don't know anything about you."
He doesn't move a muscle when she steps in, even though he's ignoring the roll of his stomach that comes with it. He chooses to put it on the overwhelming smell of greenery instead of just how close she gets - herbs and dirt, irises in full bloom. She's a garden of magic.
"You know my name is Cassian. That means you know something." He is being pedantic on purpose, but sometimes people don't ever get to know his name as he passes them by. "Nobody said trust has to do with sword fighting. Maybe I do not have any secrets worth telling."
He has too many secrets, but it's easy to fall into this back and forth with her. It's... almost like fun. What a concept.
He gives her nothing and so Jyn steps in even closer, pressing in against him. Her chin has to tilt even more to look up at him but her breath fans against the exposed skin of his throat and she can feel the shift and press of his lean muscles against her own chest, the way his chest curves with his exhale.
"Liar. Only people with more secrets than truths pretend to be open books." Jyn knows this because her mother and Saw were the same. Her father was a poor liar as far as she remembers, but he had little to hide save for his wife and daughter anyway.
Her free hand lifts, touching the fine stubble on his jaw. Her other hand twists just so that the blade he'd given her touches the back of his thigh. If she moved it, the pain would be agonizing. "Trust is very important to swordfighting, Cassian."
There's two seconds where he recognizes what she's doing: distraction into sword movement, but what surprises him is his lack of desire to do anything about it. She's a little thin from her time in prison, but he gets a sense of her strength anyway as she presses herself neatly into him. Despite that, there's still no real sign he's effected by this (yet). She could hurt him with her sword now, but she isn't going to, and he's not sure how he knows that.
"I would hardly put any trust in swordfighting with an enemy." He has zero trust in them; yes, he is just making that point to counter her.
He lets his hand grip the hilt of his sword, though he doesn't pull it free. His other hand slips into its own distraction, tucking some stray hair behind her ear, and he lets his fingers linger. "Would my middle name suffice?"
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ohnofeelstho2019-06-06 06:33 pm
there wasn't any point in worrying about tomorrow. no one knew what it held -- maybe nothing at all
The plant at her feet sways like it's dancing and she looks down at it fondly before stooping to scoop it up and settle the little sproutling on her shoulder. She's been locked up for months now and it's become rather boring. Sometimes she makes it less boring but she's been bearing more and more bruises for her troubles and Sprout has taken to pouting at her until she quietly acquiesces to their demands. Sit here, do this, shut up, go here, fix this, tell us everything you know, shut up. Whatever they really want Jyn cannot give them as the gift of prophecy is not something she has been gifted.
At least that is what she tells them. Her mother had told her every single vision that she'd had before the Empire had her killed. Prophets, oracles, seers, witches were too powerful and too damaging to the Empire. Jyn's Papa had thought his role would have protected his wife and daughter but he was wrong. Instead, Jyn had watched her mother murdered in front of her, blood split across the grass, and her father taken away from her and she'd been raised by a man so against the Empire it was as if they had handed their enemy a weapon.
A weapon in the shape of an eight year old, carrying all the prophecies of Lyra Erso.
Thirteen years later they have that weapon again but they don't even realize, Jyn having long since shed her given name for a series of names she's pulled from her past and molded into entirely new people. Kestrel, the pickpocket street urchin; Nari,the socialite who stole jewels right off people's wrists; and today, Liana Hallik, apothecary with too good an eye for the curative properties of the local flora. She knows better than to advertise her abilities, but a child was sick and Jyn has a weakness for children.
"It'll be alright, Sprout. This isn't how we die." Sprout looks at her with disdain and she shrugs, crossing the room to peer out the window feeling a shiver of magic in the air. "Something is coming."
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She'd been killed a month later herself, tracked down and the entire house they were staying in set on fire, because the Empire was not subtle in their chosen executions. Cassian only lived because he was covered in his mother's blood and the power they didn't realize she'd possessed.
The Ersos are one such family. Lyra was known to have been prophetic and the Empire killed her. Galen was taken hostage, and their child disappeared - until very recently, when the Rebellion discovered Jyn Erso was very much alive and currently in the Wobani Prisons under the name of Liana Hallik.
The Rebellion is small but they're smart, and that's how Cassian finds himself assigned as a new guard to Wobani after a month of preparations. He's dressed like a stormtrooper, all white armor with only the slot for his eyes opened up.
He stops outside her cell. "Hallik." He's using the Coruscanti accent, always the least obtrusive. "Hands."
It's what they do for all suspected magic users, a blanket precaution that Cassian knows only works about half the time, but the Empire's view of magic is narrow. He waits for Jyn to hold her hands upright and slide them through the slot so he can cuff her as is standard.
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Clearly, Jyn is never going to die.
Her hands slide through the slot, scars etched into her wrists from the many times she has had to go through this, and she peers at the man behind the bars. There is power coming from somewhere but she can't tell where and she doesn't know what it means, but at least she'll be outside when it happens. Whateverit may be.
"So what is it today?" she asks, accent something close of Coruscanti but softer and with none of the eloquence of a high born lady. Luckily, Liana Hallik is not a high born lady. "Work or torture? Only one of those choices will actually be productive, but I know you lot aren't known for your intelligence." Maybe she shouldn't be sassing the guards, but she has so little enjoyment in her day to day life, she'll take what she can get. Even if it makes Sprout dig his sharp little claws into her leg from under her skirt.
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"Torturous work." Maybe it's too much of a quip, but he's heard the way some of the guards talk to the prisoners, so it's not too far off the mark. He unlocks the cell once her hands are secure and yanks her out. He's studied their behavior, there's nothing off about him so far.
He has to get her down to the torture chambers. Cassian has memorized the entire layout of this prison, and the basement is the best way out. It's risky since she's definitely not scheduled for this today, but they have a twenty minute window before anyone should notice Liana Hallik missing from her cell. He doesn't wait for any more replies, just starts dragging her along as harshly as she's probably used to. He'll apologize later.
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Sprout needles at her ankle again before leaping to hold on to the inside of her skirts, claws catching on the serviceable fabric. She knows she shouldn't talk back, she's practically asking to be backhanded and she also knows that if she fights back it'll be more than a backhand.
She braces for the hit, but it doesn't come. Instead she is yanked harder, the force making her gasp as pain shoots up her arms. Anger spools in her belly, hands curling into small fists. Maybe it the smell of magic in the air -- like ozone, a spark of lightning. She knows no one else can smell it but she can, a perfume that she can't quite place. She knows better than too keep pushing but she's compelled by a contrary, reckless nature.
"I know why you wear those masks," she says, voice soft but sliced through with venom, poison dripping heavy and thick from her words. "You are too ashamed of the face you see in the mirror so you become faceless monsters who can destroy with cruelty and malice, but you are all cowards. If we could see your faces, we could find you. And there would be no land where you were safe from your crimes."
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He agrees with her though, about the idea behind the masks, the cruelty of the Empire. He can sense the magic around her, and though the Rebellion suspected and knew Jyn Erso possessed some kind of power, no one had ever been able to confirm it. Not with her disappearance, not with Saw Gerrera raising her. It's how he knows the Empire doesn't realize they have an Erso in Wobani, because otherwise she would not be in Wobani.
"Haven't you ever heard of a uniform before?" He gives her another hard tug, this time towards what is the familiar direction of the basements. He can feel her tensing under his grip and he grits his teeth, fortunately hidden by the mask she so accurately decried.
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"I will like your uniform better when it is stained red with blood," she hisses, voice turning icy with fear.
Pain is commonplace in her life, Saw had made it so, made it so she could fight through it and keep fighting. It was part of surviving. But the basements held pain she could not fight, pain she could not run from. Her attitude will make it worse but perhaps if she keeps needling him, keeps pushing, he will snap and the torture will simply be death.
If only this was how she died. Instead she knows she will endure and that is a torture in itself.
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The difference is when they finally get to the bottom of the stairs - with a loud thump because Cassian has to pull her harshly off that last step - they keep walking. He tugs her past the first room, the second, past all the usual doorways she's undoubtedly been pulled through in a similar way.
Instead he moves towards the end of the darkened hallway, covering her mouth as he hauls her into the root cellar.
Before she can yell or scream or punch or even magic at him, he pulls down part of the mask to reveal more of his face, eyes bright with a new sudden urgency. His voice is quiet, if not firm with that same hurried spark in his expression.
"I have seen the fulcrum. He has traveled from the Temple to the Prison." It's him, he's the fulcrum. He doesn't know how much of the code she might have gotten from her mother, or even from Saw, but it's worth a shot. At the very least it will make zero sense and give her enough reason to pause in the confusion. "And I know you are Jyn Erso, daughter of Galen and Lyra."
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Which is for the best because being pulled into a darkened room that isn't for torture and having her mouth covered so she doesn't scream makes panic well up in her throat, eyes wide and panicked before they turn wide and panicked and confused at his words.
And then Sprout leaps from her dress and clings to the hand covering her mouth, sinking his razor sharp teeth into his hand until it releases Jyn's face. She steps back, putting herself against the wall and keeping her bound hands in front of her, expression wary. She doesn't look away from the ...fulcrum, even if she is worried about wherever Sprout had fallen when he'd been shaken off. He scampers over a pile of tubers and bares his teeth at the trooper.
"Who told you that name?"
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His gaze drops briefly to the little... plant, the plant that just bit him, and he takes it as a hint to what Jyn is capable of, something to come back to after he convinces her to follow him out of here. He hasn't gotten off on the best footing, but there was no way for that to happen, not in this disguise.
"Your mother is well known in the Temple of the Whills. We traced your various aliases. I have a map of this prison, and I am here to get you out."
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She knows that name, knows the Empire hates the Temple and the Guardians, Mama had told her they were the last bastion of resistance against the Empire's slaughter of gifted peoples. Sprout chitters at her, sounding very keen to continue his violence, but she shakes her head once, not looking away from the seemingly unarmed man even as Sprout skitters back to her and clambers up her dress.
Unarmed is an illusion. Jyn doesn't need her hands to work her magic, anyone can be dangerous even without weapons.
"Prove it. Let my hands free." Sprout walks down her arm, standing on her binders, and glowers. Generally he does not look very intimidating considering he is a five inch tall twig creature, but now his sharp teeth are common knowledge in this room.
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It comes with a risk to prove it, but there are no other options. He can't knock her out and carry her deadweight. He doesn't want to fight her the entire way. He does want to get her out, that's why he's here.
"Okay." Still holding up his hands, and he moves back in closer. "I am going to undo them now."
It's strange to narrate his actions, but he's trying to be as transparent as possible, to give her as little reasons as he can to set her off and blow the whole thing up.
His hands are much more gentle this time than when he was taking her from her cell. He scoops under her wrist carefully to undo the binding, unraveling it as softly as he can do avoid hurting her further, fingertips brushing against her cold skin. His next stop comes with more risk, but one he deems necessary: holding them out for her to take, so she doesn't need to be wary of him cuffing her all over again.
"There is a crawlspace in the back of this cellar. It leads through the walls of the prison, eventually coming out through a drainage window." It's enough information to give her an idea of what they need to do, but he leaves out key information to keep himself necessary to the escape.
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"Lead the way."
She feels safe underground because she can feel the root systems of so many trees and plants and grasses surrounding her. If all else fails she could probably bring down this basement around them but then she would pass out and be trapped under there in the rubble so. Bad idea. She has to follow him or be directed by him, one of those options.
But first, she yanks open a barrel and grabs an apple, rooting around for more food; she shoves carrots in the pockets of her dress, shoves parsnips in the other pocket, grabs another apple and takes a huge, mouthwatering bite. Now she is ready to go, Sprout nibbling on the greens of one of the carrots in her pocket.
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He doesn't say anything when she's scrounging for food, just makes his way towards a pile of barrels, sliding one of them aside and lifting up a trapdoor hidden behind it. If anything, he takes more time than he might normally in wedging the pathway open to give her a few extra moments to stock up. It does give him an idea of how to keep her with him: food bribery.
"I will go through first, but then you need to try and pull the barrel back in front of the door as best you can before you close it. I am not sure it can be fully done, but by the time anyone notices we will be long gone."
The doorway is just big enough to let him through on his hands and knees, but only if Cassian ducks his shoulders in while he drops to the floor and disappears into the dark space, trusting she'll follow.
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She has no options here. If she doesn't go with him she'll have to go back to her cell, alone, and somehow explain away where her guard went. She can't escape on her own or she would have done so already, she has tried and failed and been punished enough to know she had to bide her time. She has to follow him because he knows the way out and if that isn't the most annoying thing in the world.
Slipping easily through the door, Jyn curls herself into a ball enough to turn herself around and drag the barrel as close as she can before she settles the door back into place and twists back to follow. She's absolutely coated in dirt and grime now and one of her carrots has snapped but. It's fine. She doesn't know how long they crawl down the path but eventually he stops and she catches up and doesn't keep going, which is when she realizes he wasn't waiting for her.
"What is it?" She can't see around his bulk and she is honestly grateful for the dim-light since she would otherwise be staring at his backside.
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When they reach the end, Cassian scowls. It hadn't occurred to him that the exit might have bars, yet here they are, stuck in this crawlspace because the bars are too narrow for either of them to squeeze through. The ground beneath them is muddy, slippery, and it reeks, proof that this little window does serve as an exit for excess rainwater and who knows what else.
"Give me a minute." He's grateful she can't see, because he pulls out the knife he nicked from the kitchens (he wasn't allowed to take any weapons in when he first got to the prison) and nicks the tip of his finger. He drags it down every other bar, leaving a single line of his blood on each. Then directly in front of the window, he draws a symbol that sinks into the dirt; as soon as it disappears, the bars do too.
It doesn't look like anything is missing, it just looks like naturally the spaces are bigger. It's temporary, they have about a minute.
"Follow me through, quickly."
He doesn't wait for her to verbally respond, just squeezes through the bars and slides into the mud waiting for them outside. There is absolutely nothing white left on his clothes.
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She follows, slipping through the bars and pushing herself up and out of the mud and muck. The smell does not bother her. It wasn't as if they took care to clean out her cell very often. She has spent the last six months living in her own filth and rotten, mouldy food she refused to eat when she first arrived.
Arrived, as if on holiday.
"Now what?"
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"I have food and new clothes stashed away in the woods. This is the trickiest part - making it there before we are seen."
There's a stream that follows along the edge of the prison and eventually curves off into the forest. He gestures at it after he climbs to his own feet. "We can follow that and stay close to the water, or wait about - " He looks up at the top wall of the prison, watching the shadows of the guard, "- another minute before they start walking the other direction and hope the direct path is short enough for us to cross before they turn around."
If worse comes to worst, he can shield and hide them a little, but he's trying his best not to show just what it is he can do yet. Most people within the Rebellion don't even know.
He thinks following the stream might be better, if only because it would enable her to move more slowly - and he's not sure what shape her body is in after the prison time. But maybe giving her a choice in the matter will help her get used to working with him, or at least get her to trust him enough to get her far from this place.
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"I can run."
And she does, without waiting that whole minute. She runs and he chases (follows?) and soon they are both running at full speed toward the safety of the lush, green forest she has been staring at out her window for six months. They're running and they're close and Jyn hears a shout, an alarm being raised. Maybe it isn't even that they are seen at first but her cell is found empty or maybe they were spotted running across the grounds. They will never know, they just have to keep running.
She hears the stampede of boots behind them once the stormtroopers give chase and she knows that as soon as they reach the forest they will be safe but they have to reach the forest first. Jyn slows enough to be overtaken but she can feel more than see when he turns around once he's realizes that she'd stopped.
She hears him telling her to hurry, that they can't stop, that they can't be caught, but she stops. She stops and drops to her knees, plunging her hands into the cold, hard dirt that allows her entrance like soft butter. At once, Sprout leaps from her pocket and darts across the ground to climb up Cassian's dirty pant leg. Nothing happens at first and Jyn hears his low, insistent demands that they have to run, she feels his hand touch her shoulder as if to shake her out of whatever insanity has driven her to stop and at that second dozens of huge roots burst out of the ground. They race across the space between the escapees and the stormtroopers, curling around legs and dragging them to the ground with so much violent strength that the sounds of their cries and broken, snapping bones rends the quiet like an explosion. In moments, the Imperials are all laying slumped on the ground and unable to give chase and the roots sink back into the ground like they had never been there at all.
Jyn stands, skin cold and trembling, and turns. Her green eyes are bright and sparkling, cheeks flushed and hair somehow windswept, radiant in victory. "What are you waiting for? Run."
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As the roots burst from the ground, Cassian can't help but watch her attack in awe, barely aware of the twig creature practically cheering from his pants.
He was right to assume plant magic. He just hadn't realized just how powerful it was, and he almost wishes she'd kept it a secret despite how it has just saved them, because now without a doubt the Empire will gain access to this knowledge too. Jyn Erso can never ever fall back into their hands.
"I was waiting for you!" he quips back, pausing a moment to take in the sight of her face flushed in victory, but then he yanks on her hand and starts running again. No time for another trick like that one! Besides, if she can do that with roots, once they're in the trees they'll be much safer.
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They run and run and run, reaching the forest and through it, Jyn using the trees to cover their path behind him, even as they keep running. Entire looming trees simply move, as if their roots aren't hundreds of years old and deep into the ground, the forest utterly at Jyn's command. Soon they are untraceable, but Cassian keeps urging them forward and Jyn can't blame him. She wants to get as far from that prison as possible.
The woods to their left are uprooted and shifted as they splash through the curve in the stream, hiding them from all angles, and Cassian doesn't stop until they reach a circular copse of trees, a camp disguised by an overgrown thicket. When Jyn realizes this will be their camp for the night, the tree branches lower to further disguise the camp. Jyn's vision goes blurry and she hears a monotone voice point out: "She's fainting."
"No, I'm not," Jyn protests, promptly passing out. Hand still clutched in Cassian's.
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They make it to the camp, which she also manages to secure further, and then promptly passes out. Cassian jerks, scooping his arm around her waist before she falls and keeping her upright.
With a sigh, Kay scurries over to help. Together they bring her over to one of the cots and settle her in comfortably. "I do not think she is too hurt, but look her over, please? I am going to make sure the borders are still secure."
Kay works his healing magic while Cassian does his, redrawing the symbols for protection and silence, grateful for the extra coverage via trees now too. Jyn's little plant friend never leaves her side and nearly gets into an argument with Kay until he demonstrates his healing on Cassian's own bleeding palm. Once all that's settled, Cassian starts up a fire and starts to cook, sitting and chatting quietly with Kay while they wait for Jyn to wake up.
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Sprout chitters at her and she finally opens her eyes, blinking against the bright light of the fire so close in the dim clearing, licking her lips to chase away the cottony feeling of her mouth.
"Sprout says he makes no apologies for his prior actions." Jyn doesn't ask what actions or why a tiny plant creature may need to apologize, instead slowly pushing herself to sitting while her companion keeps chattering at her. If they thought her fainting spell was an opportunity to talk in private, they were incorrect. This plant is a chatterbox. She doesn't relay anything else he says but some of his gesticulations clearly imply profanity.
Eventually, she looks between the two men. "Are you going to introduce yourselves now?"
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He knew he was correct in keeping the conversation strictly to the mission as it relates to Jyn, not wanting to assume too little or too much of Sprout.
He stands up and shifts enough to offer her a cup of water. "I am Cassian, this is Kay. He is the one who tended your injuries. We are safe in this camp. How are you feeling?"
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At least she is taller than Sprout.
She takes the cup greedily, gulping down the water even though the logical part of her brain insists that she take it slow and pace herself. There is a stream nearby, she can pace herself later.
"Thank you." It applies to both, she refuses to specify for what she is offering her gratitude, for whom.
"I feel," she adds, thirsty again already but feeling her stomach roll at the nothing else in her belly. "Like I am in dire need... of soap."
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He can very magically heat it up almost instantly, but he's not about to admit that. She can just assume it'll be heated on the open fire.
"There are clothes for you as well," offers Kay, but in a very matter-of-fact way. "Presumably you want to be rid of the uniform."
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"I'll meet you by the stream with soap."
Without waiting for it, she turns and lopes off unerringly toward the water, stripping off her filthy dress and delicates as she goes. They are in the forest, being stalked probably still by her guards, no one is going to scold her for the utter lack of decorum and propriety. She was just rescued from prison, no one expects Liana Hallik to be a lady and most people think Jyn Erso perished with her poor mother.
Sprout looks up between Kay and Cassian and his leaves spread in an unmistakable shrug.
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"Oh, please!" Kay sighs dramatically, turning around and going back to tending the fire.
Cassian does not turn around as quickly, catching sight of the bare expanse of her back before he turns his head, the tips of his ears going red while her little plant friend just... shrugs.
He doesn't follow after her immediately. He gives her time to get into the stream, ducking into the tent to get some soap and also new clothes. It's a very simple green dress, and knowing how small she is, it's a good thing he brought a belt to cinch it. There's an undershirt tucked in the dress, and a jacket she can have later waits at her cot.
With a sigh, he starts for the stream, relieved to find her already submerged. He stops at a respectable distance, and fortunately he's managed to get the initial flush of surprise back under control, clearing his throat.
"I am afraid we do not have towels, but I have clothes and soap. Where should I put it?"
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It makes more sense to wash her clothes while she is washing herself than to get clean and dry and then struggle with washing her soiled dress once she is out of the water. May as well kill two birds with one stone. The river grasses can help her beat the filth out of the dress.
"I would ask for help but your friend may well implode from the indecency of it all."
Dipping her head, she cups her hands to drink from the stream, closing her eyes at the cool water soothing what Kay couldn't heal. The scrapes and abrasions and careful torturous cuts are all gone, miraculously, but the months of bruises remain. Perhaps her injuries were too numerous to get to the bruises, perhaps that was outside of his purview. Her mother was the one with insight to the ability of others, Jyn only feels them.
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He turns back, under the guise of gathering up her old things. "I can help you wash your old clothes, if that is what you mean."
Though why she would keep a prison uniform is lost on him, briefly, until he considers re-purposing it in some capacity. Waste not want not. He can, and is, fine about this. Cassian is polite but if he's honest, propriety isn't always important in the way his life has gone. He usually just goes with the tone of what already exists.
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Part of it is a general ease and comfort she feels being so surrounded by nature; the stream, the trees, the fresh air after so long breathing the stale, foul air of her prison cell. A smaller part of it is also seeing how far she can push him before he balks. She suspects he'll go quite a bit further than his scandalized partner, but she won't know until she pushes.
So of course she is pushing.
Water licks across her collarbone as she turns to look at him, soaping herself up under the water. Shame is clearly not a concept Jyn is aware of, but she isn't one for lying when the truth will do. Her hair could use a good scrubbing and maybe Jyn is not up to the task solo -- it's going to take half the soap just to get the layers of filth and grime off of her.
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He's sure Jyn does not want to ask for help. And he isn't teasing like she is, not really. He doesn't harbor the same qualms about propriety as Kay, but he will not get in the water with a naked Jyn Erso unless explicitly asked to either.
Cassian kicks off his shoes either way, because he's prepared to wash her prison clothes, and wet shoes are the worst. He's very good at getting grime out, bloodstains included - his own magic has him dripping on his sleeves far too often.
"But if this is just a game, then give me a moment and I will get right back to it."
you're reckless, arrogant, impetuous, probably be dead by sundown, but i like you
She has just dressed in a hand-me-down yet lovely blue dress adorned with pale blue ribbons, trying to twist her hair in a messy pile of wet curls, and on her way outside into the fresh air when a sword is shoved at her. Her hands automatically fall to grab the sword and her hair falls down her back and over her shoulders in a dark waterfall.
"What is this?"
It is a sword, she knows that much, the question is really why it is being pushed at her when she was trying to tie her hair back.
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There are a lot of ways she could answer the question, even beyond just a yes or no. She could lie. She could pretend otherwise. She was raised by Saw Gererra, Cassian assumes she has some familiarity with weapons, but there's no telling which was her forte.
He's holding his own, though it's tucked into the scabbard at his side. He was definitely not carrying a sword when they met, but the sheath looks old and worn. He wants to see how she handles using one, because even though she has her magic, he does too and he always likes to be armed.
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"I suspect that you hit 'em with the sharp bit," is her half flippant reply.
She notices, glancing between the sword on his hip and the one in her hand, that her sword is quite a bit shorter, probably lighter, more suited to her diminutive frame than his sword would have been. That's... oddly sweet, a consideration she isn't sure many people would make.
"Are you going to teach me?"
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Even now, he can't tell what she knows. Her flippant reply is par for the course with Jyn, but he does note the way she glances between their weapons, like she's taking a sort of stock of each.
"The sharp bit's important, yes." He doesn't roll his eyes, but the urge is there. He offers her a shrug alongside his offer. "If you would like to accept it."
Not if she would like to learn, because he's still working on what she already knows. Cassian is very careful with his words.
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She steps in closer, knowing already that Cassian won't back away. He hadn't backed down in the forest, she knows he won't now, a dignified statue even if she thinks sometimes she sees a hint of a smile working to free itself from his perfectly neutral expression. She steps in close enough that she can smell soap and mineral oil and the already familiar sharp tang of ozone of whatever his magic is.
She has to exhale another deep breath before she can offer her condition.
"Tell me a secret." She looks up at him, green eyes calculative. "I'm meant to trust you, am I not? How can I do that if I don't know anything about you."
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"You know my name is Cassian. That means you know something." He is being pedantic on purpose, but sometimes people don't ever get to know his name as he passes them by. "Nobody said trust has to do with sword fighting. Maybe I do not have any secrets worth telling."
He has too many secrets, but it's easy to fall into this back and forth with her. It's... almost like fun. What a concept.
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He gives her nothing and so Jyn steps in even closer, pressing in against him. Her chin has to tilt even more to look up at him but her breath fans against the exposed skin of his throat and she can feel the shift and press of his lean muscles against her own chest, the way his chest curves with his exhale.
"Liar. Only people with more secrets than truths pretend to be open books." Jyn knows this because her mother and Saw were the same. Her father was a poor liar as far as she remembers, but he had little to hide save for his wife and daughter anyway.
Her free hand lifts, touching the fine stubble on his jaw. Her other hand twists just so that the blade he'd given her touches the back of his thigh. If she moved it, the pain would be agonizing. "Trust is very important to swordfighting, Cassian."
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"I would hardly put any trust in swordfighting with an enemy." He has zero trust in them; yes, he is just making that point to counter her.
He lets his hand grip the hilt of his sword, though he doesn't pull it free. His other hand slips into its own distraction, tucking some stray hair behind her ear, and he lets his fingers linger. "Would my middle name suffice?"